Burning
by Dessmina
Summary: Ethan doesn't know how he came to stay with his aunt and uncle, or what on earth those weird dreams with flames meant. He just wanted to live a happy life, so if those new kids who brought with them the unwanted thoughts could just go away, that would be great. OR Skull loses his memory after the Curse is broken, the ex-Arcobaleno keep trying to find him and he is so confused
1. Ablaze

_It is heat._

 _It is fire._

 _It is flames._

 _The familiarity of it reaches and grasps towards him, every colour of the rainbow apart from one - the violet._

 _And inside something in him awakens as it tries to fight its' way out, calling out to the other flames._

 ** _I'm here please please help me pleasepleaseplease_**

 _And they hear the cry and just as they turn, just as his moth opens, to say, to scream, to sob_

 _Arcob-_

He wakes up in sweat covered sheets, the sound of a lone car passing outside the window and a word at the tip of his tongue that he nearly caught this time. His head aches, and his mouth is parched.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed ( _and were they shorter in his dream? Why would he dream he was a_ toddler _when he was a big boy and 6 and nonono_ ) stuffing his feet into his slippers and rises, padding towards the door softly.

He makes his way towards the kitchen, avoiding the creaky step and passing by the hallway with the scarves, coats and one lone fedora (Chaos! _a voice exclaims in his head and he can just imagine the smugness and the utter arrogance_ ) that he asked his aunt and uncle to buy him one day.

He reaches the kitchen, the moon letting him walk around with no trouble, and grabs the cup with little octopi scribbled all over it. He opens the fridge and takes out the strawberry milk, not that he was a big fan of it. But something about it ( _a twist of lips and_ Mou, it will cost you a glass of strawberry milk) just made him feel better, safer even.

He sits at the table, the strawberry milk in his cup and his alligator slippers _(a flash of green and maniacal laughter like those he hears in cartoons that mad scientists give fill his head and_ ) swinging back and forth slowly.

"Ethan," is said as the lights on the side turn on. Ethan jumps, spilling his milk slightly as he looks up at his uncle.

"I've been calling you a while," his uncle says, a paper towel in hand as he gestures to a half finished mug of tea.

"Hahaha, sorry uncle Greg! The great Ethan was busy with his mission for strawberry milk!" He doesn't mention that the name Ethan feels wrong, alien to him. That it feels like a mask that he has to put on and play and so he forgets to react to that name at times. He never makes the mistake of mentioning this to his aunt or uncle though. Dr. Naveed ( _and does his long, thin hair in a tight braid and the serene smile he wears remind him of someone important, someone special and_ ) already has enough to talk to him about. "Why are you up?" He asks his uncle, who was cleaning up the spilled milk.

"I was having a cup of tea, because I couldn't sleep," and before Uncle Greg could continue Ethan cut in.

"In the dark?" He asked with a wrinkled nose. His uncle flicked his nose lightly ( _a forgetten memory or not-memory tried to rise but quickly vanished_ ) and Ethan instantly shielded his nose from further attack.

"And you didn't turn on the light either," here he pouted, hands still covering his nose.

"The light hurts my eyes this early!" He defended himself, sulkily taking a sip of his milk. His uncle sighed and ruffled his hair fondly ( _a warm smile, and a warm voice offering him cookies as orange eyes peered at him_ ) sitting back down across from Ethan.

"Did you have another night terror Ethan?" He asked and Ethan could feel his shoulders bunch up.

"Nah, course not!" He exclaimed, glancing nervously away from his uncle and quickly taking a sip of his milk.

His uncle remained quiet for a moment and when Ethan looked up he saw sad, ancient eyes staring at him. Guilt flooded him and he looked away.

"You know your aunt and I are here for you, right?" He asked and Ethan nodded, his throat clogging up. "We don't mind you waking us up to talk about them," his uncle said, gazing at him steadily.

Ethan nodded, but couldn't bring himself to look up at him. He knew they didn't mind, but he just couldn't wake them up every night. Not when he knows Aunt Rosie had difficulties sleeping, her own terrors haunting her at night from when she was in military ( _and why why why does that remind him of blue and a couple, violent and happy in military gear oh why_ ) and had to do things for this country she never forgave herself fully for.

When Ethan glanced up he had a feeling as though his uncle could tell what he was thinking anyways.

His uncle didn't sigh, instead he simply rose and made his way towards the kettle.

"Tea?" He asked. And Ethan looked at his octopi cup, drained of strawberry milk and decided that yes, his uncle was cool.

"Yeah please!"

* * *

He changed his mind. His uncle was _not_ cool, he was one big lie. He has been _betrayed_ , sold out by his _one_ and _only_ uncle to-

"Ethan, what did you dream about?" Asked his Auntie Rosie. Her eyes were silently imploring - and how did he even know this word - him to speak, to speak and tell the truth.

Ethan glared at his uncle, a pout rising and ruining the whole effect.

"It wasn't anything important," he said mullishly, kicking his feet back and forth childishly - _and of course the action was childlish as he was a child after all_ \- but his aunt did not waver.

He pouted again and crossed his arms, and then uncrossed them just as quickly (don't cross your arms lackey it shows weakness _floats in his head)_ and reluctantly started speaking.

"I, it was the flames. Again," here Ethan paused struggling for words. His aunt waited patiently, not encouraging him, but then she didn't discourage him either. "They were bright and, um, like they were looking for something? Something important. Something they lost," the words stumbled over each other in a mess but his aunt nodded her head.

"Go on," she said, pouring him some more juice.

"It felt like, um, like," he stumbled once again and paused.

"What did it feel like Ethan?" His aunt asked softly, her voice so far away from him. He was peripherally aware of his uncle shooting her a look, but his aunt remained focused on him.

"Like they were looking for me," here he gave a small pause, and then, in a quieter voice,

"It felt like _home_."

* * *

"Your nightmares haven't stopped then," Dr Naveed stated more than asked him in their session later on.

"Nope," Ethan said, popping the 'p'. "But they kinda feel more realistic than normal nightmares," Ethan tried explaining.

"How so?"

"Well, I sometimes have nightmares that I'll be taken away from my aunt or uncle, yeah? And usually all the emotions I get from that fade _really_ quickly with a hug from my uncle and time. But these nightmares stay with me and I just can't stop thinking about them," Ethan explained, his arms gesturing wildly, knocking the toys off the couch.

"Any other nightmares or dreams or maybe thoughts that stay with you?" Dr Naveed asked him curiously, waving Ethan off as he started picking up the toys.

"Sometimes I look at my legs and think, that they should be shorter than this or _way_ longer," Ethan said with a scrunched up nose, staring intently at his legs.

"Do you often think like this?" Dr Naveed asked, gathering the toys scattered round them, not looking at Ethan directly. And Ethan knew he did it to make him more comfortable. He really appreciated that.

"Every time I wake up," Ethan replied, kicking his feet back and forth slowly.

"Hmm," Dr Naveed mused and then he walked to one of the filing cabinets in the office, dropping off the toys in the toy box on his way there.

"What would you say about giving you some homework?" Dr Naveed said rhetorically.

Ethan groaned.

"Do I gotta?"

"I think it will help you a lot. And if you keep at it, I may just so happen to have something waiting for you," Dr Naveed prompted and Ethan agreed without a second thought.

Dr Naveed then walked towards him and passed him a blank notebook.

"I want you from today onwards to write down all your dreams as soon as you wake up, alright? Along with any intrusive- ah, I mean any thoughts that will not leave your head," Dr Naveed explained and Ethan decided not to point that he knew what intrusive meant.

"Is that all?" Ethan said, waving the book in the air.

"Yes it is and it is the end of your session too," Dr Naveed said, checking his watch.

* * *

They didn't always talk about his nightmares/not-nightmares, his dissociation with his body or intrusive thoughts (or his knowledge of words that he never remembers learning or how he just knows stuff 6 year olds simply _s_ _houldn't_ -) during those therapy sessions.

In fact, there were times that the whole session was just talk of mundane everyday stuff. He remembers a session during which he just rambled on about motorcycles, because motorcycles were _awesome_ and he really wanted one but his uncle was all like "you're too young" while his aunt just said musingly "why not?" And then his uncle was all like "Rosie he is 6" and his aunt shrugged all like "meh" and then when his uncle wasn't looking she winked at him and really his Aunt Rosie is the _best_ -

He just _really_ loves motorcycles.

So not all of the sessions were doom and gloom. And to be honest, Ethan didn't mind them that much. They seemed really helpful to him, in fact he started to make more sense of all those weird dreams than before.

But sometimes he has flashes of intense fear and hate towards the doctors, those in hospitals in scrubs. Adults just see it as a child's reaction to a bit of pain. But he knows it goes deeper than that, knows that it must certainly have to do with something that has happened to him _before_ auntie and uncle, something to do with all those _stupid_ dreams he was having-

He just really hated hospitals sometimes.

And he especially hated when the nurses came at him with empty syringes, wanting to test his blood.

But he preserved and let them take it. What harm could come from that?

( _He ignored the itch that warned him that bad things happened to unnatural little things like him_ ).

* * *

It got better, easier.

And then it got _worse_.

* * *

He has naturally purple hair. Which, well, it's _not_ weird, but unusual. And then his eyes matched his hair perfectly too. The same shade, no matter the time of day.

Ethan actually loved his hair and eyes. They kind of reminded him of something. He couldn't really put his finger on it though. Something to do with multiplication?

( _It does and doesn't because it is not the right word and it has to do with flames_ -)

They give him a lot of attention whenever he goes out though. His uncle explained to him that not all attention is good ( _and Ethan knew this already, flashes of phantom pain tingling his fingers_ ) and that something bad could happen to him if he didn't hide them.

Ethan was quite certain that his auntie, uncle and Dr Naveed were afraid that his parents or whoever had him in the past would come back and hurt him, and they just _really_ wanted to avoid that. But then he really loved his eyes and hair, they made him look cool, like a bike rider (you look like a punk kid _sneered yellow eyes, and an offended gasp met their words_ ).

In the end, Ethan agreed to coloured contact lenses to hide his purple eyes-

"But they itch!"

"I know very well that they only feel a bit itchy when you put them in Ethan."

-and a hat to cover most of his hair. And if anyone asked, he had to say it was temporary hair spray.

* * *

He was playing in the park with the other kids, his uncle sat on a bench not far away, reading his newspaper and every once in a while glancing up. Not that S-Ethan blamed him ( _and what was it that he wanted to call himself?_ ). He had a habit of drifting off, letting his feet take him wherever and then getting lost. He lost count of how many times his aunt and uncle searched the town for him.

That's not to say that when they saw him wandering they stopped him. It was like they could tell he needed to wander, see the town and just be. Instead of stopping him, they walked around with him, making sure he didn't get lost or kidnapped.

But this wasn't one of his wandering days. Instead he had a good time playing tag with all the other kids in the park. He gleefully ran away from Leo, who then decided to chase someone else. Ethan was loosely aware of the new kids at the side, watching but not joining in, they did that for a few days already so Ethan wasn't that concerned. It's not like they paid much attention to him.

Soon, the game of tag developed into tackle and Peter slammed into him. Ethan fell with a laugh and and 'oomph!', his hat flying from his head. They sat up laughing loudly.

Ethan faintly heard one word over the laughter from the new kids.

"Skull?"

Who was Skull, Ethan wondered still laughing, flashes of circus and stunts pushed away.

* * *

The new kids were weird, Ethan decided. Not that he really had room to talk. But he at least didn't stalk other people! They seemed weirdly focused on him. Maybe it was his hair? They did seem to start stalking him since his hat fell off. Is this why his uncle told him it would be better to hide his hair? Because he didn't want weirdo kids stalking him?

Ethan mournfully considered dying his hair. He did love it, but if dying is what it took to stop the new kids glaring and bringing all the dreams and intrusive thoughts - _which he was finding harder to detect as they were starting to sound like his own_ \- he might just go with black hair.

Were kids even allowed to permanently dye their hair?

* * *

Ethan felt trapped.

Eyes were constantly on him, no matter where he went, he could feel the weight of eyes on his back. His night terrors were getting worse with each passing day and the smile on his face kept getting faker with each day.

Sk-Eth- _He_ just wanted to be free.

His auntie and uncle were getting more worried with each day, Dr Naveed has been growing more concerned as well and the new kids would _just, not, stop, staring_.

He was burning.

And nothing could stop it or help him.

* * *

He wakes up, mind empty, and eyes staring straight at the ceiling.

He doesn't know who he is anymore.

* * *

 **A/N: Yes hi hello. I vanish for a few months with a fic I never mentioned. Hi. This is cross posted on AO3 if you prefer that platform (same title and author name). I had trouble trying to write in the ex-Arcobaleno so I just, avoided them mostly in the story. I did have a few problems with the formatting (thank you _Fire-and-Ice-Wolf_ for pointing it out to me). Have a lovely day everyone!^^^**


	2. Scorching

Ethan did his best to avoid the kids, refusing to go back to the park and instead asking his aunt and uncle to let him wander. They agreed, sharing worried looks over his head. He pretended not to notice, as something twisted around in his stomach and curled around his throat, leaving him choked up.

So he wandered and wandered, his feet in constant motion, but it wasn't enough. It didn't keep his attention for long and his thoughts kept drifting, making his mood worse and worse each time. It was uncle Greg that came up with the idea.

"An aquarium?" Ethan asked with rising excitement, a first for a while. An aquarium full of fish and sharks and octopuses! There would be octopuses! His uncle smiled at him as Ethan started bouncing around babbling happily about all the stuff they could find there.

"It's interactive as well," his auntie Rosie said, flicking through the pamphlet and Ethan started vibrating in place. "You get to 'swim' with the seaweed, there is an arcade full of fish related games and there's live feeding!" An interactive aquarium! He craned his neck to look at the line in front of them. It wasn't that long, only a few people and they could enter. He couldn't wait!

A few hours later, his aunt carried him out of the aquarium whilst he sleepily clutched a red octopus close to his chest, a real smile on his face.

"You're certain you didn't want the purple one?" Auntie Rose asked him, amusement in her voice and he shook his head, clutching his octopus closer to his chest.

"What will you call it?" Uncle asked him, easily hefting Ethan's small backpack along with his own bag and the gift shop bag. Ethan blinked muzzily and then held out the octopus in front of himself. He frowned in concentration and squinted at the toy. Something tickled at the back of his mind.

"Oodako! His name is Oodako!" He declared and something within him relaxed as he clutched Oodako back to his body. It felt like home. Uncle Greg opened the car and auntie Rosie hummed, shifting him to deposit him in the car, dropping a kiss on his forehead.

"It's a great name dear!"

* * *

It was a temporary happiness.

* * *

 _darkness, darkness, darkne-_

 _a flicker of a flame and a faraway sound of humming_

 _"Oodako? Nice to meet you." Pause. "This is Lichi-"_

* * *

Those kids were persistent. Ethan scowled as he clutched his aunt's hand tighter dragging her to take the path on the left, away from the kids. His aunt squeezed his hand back and Ethan relaxed a bit. Honestly, how much more stalker-ish could they get? Peter told Ethan during one of their playdates that since he stopped coming round to the park they disappeared. Apparently, not for long as here they were the second time Ethan decided to appear at the park.

What a bother.

Well, S-Ethan was afraid of no one! He would show them! He was the greatest Ethan after all!

(He never had much confidence in himself to begin with.)

And they were _kids_ , they couldn't be that bad and would probably lose interest in Ethan soon enough right?

(Something within him whispered to stop pretending and lying. He wished he could.)

* * *

 _flicker, flicker, flicker_

 _the light is dimming and rising over and over as though agitated or excited or-_

 _"Never approach another directly kora" a pause. A laugh. "Well, you would look suspicious, such direct approach. Best is to appear nearby kora."_

 _"For fucks sake, how difficult is it to explain." a sound of flesh hitting clothes and a fake whine of pain "Listen up maggot, it's similar to knocking on the door. You knock on the door to let someone inside the house know that you are there. You let your contact know you are there by appearing nearby, but not approaching directly until told so."_

* * *

"How are you feeling today, Ethan?" Dr. Naveed asked, his voice soft. But Ethan could tell that he was taking in his scruffy hair, the bags under his eyes and the too large grin on his face. Ethan considered lying, covering up as something within told him to (l _ie, lie, lie like you always do-_ ), but then he remembered something that Dr. Naveed told him.

It was their second session and Ethan (well, not Ethan then, he didn't know who he was and neither did the authorities and so he was a John Doe, thought Dr. Naveed did his best to avoid calling him that) did what he found he was good at: bluffing. He avoided questions about his past, about his feelings and more. And Dr. Naveed looked at him, truly looked at him and saw something beyond of what he was.

Dr. Naveed didn't look at Ethan like a child, like something to be fixed. He looked at Ethan like another human being.

"I am not here to make you happy," Dr. Naveed began in his soft voice, eyes piercing Ethan down to his soul. "I'm here to help you move forwards, to manage what you feel. Life is a journey and you have to feel like you're moving forwards. So if you feel bad, I won't berate you, I won't tell you that you shouldn't feel like this and I won't force you to tell me. If you tell me, I will help you understand why you feel like this and if you don't want to tell me, you can say 'I don't want to talk about it', just please don't lie to me. I am here to help."

And Ethan, who should be no more than a child of 5, who should not understand the words, the depth of them, looked back at Dr. Naveed, swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head.

And so-

"I've been better," he said quietly, grin and shoulders dropping. Dr. Naveed, nodded his head.

( _You idiot_ , a voice he should remember snaps, _trust no one, especially now that you're in the maf-_ )

"And is this something you would like to talk about?"

"Not really, it just- it was-" Ethan struggled to find the right words, a frown on his face. He absently fiddled with his cloud necklace. "Another dream- nightmare."

Dr. Naveed waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts whilst unpacking the puzzle box and as before, the action of not looking at him, of letting him gather his thoughts in peace and not pressing and searching, just taking whatever Ethan gave him - it caused a rush of warmth to flow through him.

(fake, fake, fake, _as if I would trust you to watch my back_ )

"I've been writing down my dreams," Ethan said, taking out his notebook. He flipped to he latest page and traced the writing. "The dream it, it was more emotional? No, it was more draining I guess, it left me- um- it left me feeling as though I was um, well, it made me feel as though I was burning," he muttered the last part, feeling so stupid, it made no sense, and what did Dr. Naveed care about his stupid dreams that weren't even real? He was so fu-

"Burning?" Dr. Naveed mumbled curiously, and when Ethan looked at him there was no judgement, no pity and no patronising look being thrown his way. Ethan latched onto that like a lifeline.

"Yeah, um, I don't think I have the right words to describe it," he admitted, putting his notebook aside. He then kept his hands busy by flicking the puzzle pieces the right way up. Dr. Naveed moved the box out of the way, keeping the top of it - with the final outcome of the puzzle - within sight and easy reach.

"No worries Ethan, tell me what you can and feel most comfortable with," the steady voice of his therapist helped sooth down his anxiety. "Maybe there is something else you would like to talk to me about?"

Ethan hesitated even as he quickly separated the edge puzzle pieces from the inside puzzle pieces. Should he mention the weird kids ( _not-kids_ )? With their too sharp eyes, unnatural grace and the knowledge Ethan could see sitting at the tips of their tongues? Their stalker-ish behaviour that seemed to be focused on him? And the word, no name, that they said when they looked at him, 'Skull'?

"Can we do the puzzle for a while and talk about the circus in town for now?" Ethan asked shooing the thoughts away, although the circus brought its own thoughts with it. Dr. Naveed smiled at him.

"Of course."

* * *

 _hmm, hmm, hmm_

 _"What?" a big sigh "I am a scientist, not a medical doctor. I don't deal with broken bodies and broken minds. I_ make _the bodies and mind_ broken _-"_

* * *

"I'm burning with flames," Skull- wait no, Ethan murmured quietly, considering a puzzle piece against another. Silence. He wasn't concerned. His gaze was somewhat unfocused as he stared at the puzzle. "My entire body, my entire being is filled with flames, flames the colour of amethyst, but brighter than any gem, any thing that I have seen." Ethan-Skull's head jerked up, eyes meeting Dr. Naveed's in a frenzied rush and there was a glow in those purple eyes - purple like amethyst. Dr. Naveed gazed steadily back, hands visible as he calmly stared at him. "And they haunt me. They are the shadows on sunny days. The flicker I see in the corner of my eyes. The things I fear and the things I love. It draws me in and drowns me and- and- and-" tears fall down his face.

"I just want it to stop!" And then he burst out crying, ugly sobs shuddering his entire frame.

"Ethan, can I hug you?" that was not his name, but then neither was Skull and he was so tired- "Ethan can I hug you?" and this time Skul-Etha-he looked up to see Dr. Naveed looking concerned his eyes gazing steadily at him, not shying away or staring through him and all he could was sob and nod arms reaching up towards the doctor.

Strong arms encircled him slowly and EthanSkullEthanSkull let himself fall.

* * *

 _the flame flickers still_

 _"I miss having you all here." silence - no, a reply,_ his _reply -, a giggle "well, maybe not the explosions specifically, but just the feeling of family and warmth of the flames-"_

* * *

At first, he used to see Dr. Naveed everyday, one of the first things in the morning. "It's to help you adjust and to create a routine," Dr. Naveed told him when not-Ethan-yet asked him.

With time the therapy sessions decreased, and when his aunt and uncle adopted him, they dropped to 3 per week, then 2 when they noticed good adjustment, until he saw Dr. Naveed once per week. If he was having more bad days than usual, his aunt and uncle always reminded him that he could always see Dr. Naveed if that would help him, and so, sometimes he saw Dr. Naveed more. Usually, he preferred staying at home, curling up on the couch with his family and watching films. He still had some of the songs from Prince of Egypt stuck in his head.

( _sleep and remember my last lullaby, someday we'll meet when you dream_ )

However, with what was happening recently (the sleepless nights, flinching at sounds, eating less...), Dr. Naveed gently recommended that they increase the therapy sessions for the time being.

Ethan, unhappily and unwillingly, could see that it would be helpful. It didn't stop the clogging in his throat and the drop in his stomach. And he was doing so well.

His auntie Rosie didn't let him hold onto those thoughts for long.

"Recovery isn't linear," she said to him that night as they sat in the darkness of the kitchen, the light of the moon the only thing allowing them to see. They both nursed drinks, he had his strawberry milk whilst his aunt drank the decaf tea she liked so much. "It's not a straight path. It has its ups and downs like everything else in life. You will have bad days, days where you feel like sh-stuff doesn't want to work for you. Days where you lay in bed and just want to fall back asleep. Days where you just want all the noise to stop," here she paused and looked him straight in the eyes.

"But take it from me kiddo, with time those bad days will be overtaken by all the good days you will have."

"Yeah?" than sniffles letting go of his mug to wipe at his eyes, even as he wants to keep his eyes on his aunt.

"They have for me," she says, and S-Ethan remembers the years she served, the nightmares she has and the days she refuses to sleep.

"You are not a failure Ethan," she continues in a strong voice, reaching across the table and clutching his hand in hers. And he can see in her eyes understanding.

"Setbacks happen and you, Ethan, are a fighter, and I know that they will not keep you back. And we are here for you, cheering you on, even if it doesn't feel like it."

* * *

 _"You want to know about flames?" A sense of agreement from_ himself -he _is the other part of the conversation and these are_ his _mem- "Mou, it will cost you, Sku-?"_

* * *

He goes back to the park, determined not to be afraid.

"Chaos," the kid ( _not-kid_ ) with the curly sideburns smirks at him. "It's been a while

S  
k  
u  
l  
l."

(It curls within him and burns)

* * *

 **N/A: Check me out on tumblr: Dessmina.**


	3. Simmering

"It's me

R  
e  
b  
o  
r  
n."

* * *

In a case like this, Ethan did the logical thing. That is to say, he flailed about and bristled up.

"My name's not Skull," he said, wrinkling his nose at the other kid (because that was the truth, it was not, not any more, he was Ethan now and he liked being Ethan-), but he didn't tell him his name (he had a feeling that the kid already knew it anyway, what a creep), "Why are you and your friends stalking me?"

The kid blinked, and it looked innocent, but Ethan could feel the fakeness of the expression and knew the next words would ring false too.

"Stalking? Why would we be stalking you? We just go to the same park," the kid said with a small shrug, smiling at him.

Was this kid for serious? Ethan gave him an unimpressed look.

"Look, whatever or whoever you're hoping to find with me, it's not gonna happen!" He turned around and stalked off towards his auntie, before whirling around "And stop stalking me!" And with that Ethan left the kid-Reborn alone.

That was not the end of it.

* * *

"Chaos, I'm Reginald, but call me Reg," the kid - Reg - said, smiling charmingly at Ethan and his uncle. He wore jeans, blue trainers and a shirt with a motorcycle on it. He also had a yellow backpack on.

Ethan's brain short-circuited. That was Reborn. What was he doing?

"Hello Reg," said his uncle. He then nudged Ethan who internally bristled.

"Hello Reg," Ethan said dutifully, eyes narrowed.

What a pain.

* * *

It seems that he realised that Ethan was not so easily fooled. He seemed to up his game - not that it did anything in Ethan's opinion.

This time he appeared dressed in shorts with his hair combed down to form a bob. "My name is Rory!" Yeah as if-

"Hello Rory," said his uncle with a smile. Ethan glared at his uncle, did he not realise this was the same kid as before?

"Hello Rory," Ethan said once again when his uncle nudged him, he could feel a pattern forming. He did not like this one bit.

* * *

"I didn't know you were making all these new friends Ethan, you should have told us," his uncle glanced at him with a grin and Ethan could only gape.

'Rogan' beamed at them, his hair tied into a ponytail as he bounced on his feet. It was so obviously Reborn and all the other kids he pretended to be, Ethan was going to cry from frustration.

"Trust me, I didn't know either," he said mulishly at last, his uncle didn't hear him busy talking with Rogan as he was.

Ethan considered banging his head against the lamppost not far away.

* * *

"It's unfair," Ethan declared to Dr Naveed, toying with the crayons on the table.

"What is?"

"Just," here Ethan made a face, holding his breath in before letting it out explosively. "Just everything," he said miserably. "I just want- I don't want- I-"

"Deep breaths Ethan, that's it, you're doing so well," Dr Naveed soothed, breathing deeply and waiting for Ethan's stuttering breaths to match. Ethan blinked his eyes and wiped them with his sleeve.

"I just want to stop crying. I want the dreams to stop. I don't want-" he stopped, wiping at his eyes again.

"What don't you want Ethan?" It was asked softly, in a way that Ethan knew, knew that he didn't have to answer. It was an invitation.

"I don't want to be a weakling anymore! I don't want to be useless and-and a pushover and for my body to be so-so-so-" And with that Ethan burst into tears, sobs heaving his body as he automatically reached out his hands towards Dr Naveed, seeking comfort.

Dr Naveed hugged him and Ethan burrowed into his chest, still crying. They stayed like that for a few minutes, and when Ethan's crying started to peter out, Dr Naveed spoke up.

"Would you like me to call for your auntie?" Ethan nodded his head, not lifting it up. "I'll send her a text message then. Would you like to talk about it more?" Ethan hesitated, before slowly lifting his head.

"I don't know. I'm tired," he added the last part quietly, ashamed. "I just want to sleep."

"Your auntie will be here soon," Dr Naveed promised. "And then you can go home."

Home.

* * *

He avoids the Arcobaleno like the plague for the next few days, knowing he was too raw, too vulnerable to see them. Dr Naveed talked about taking care of yourself, knowing your own boundaries and how if you push yourself too hard, it will have negative effects on you. Ethan decided that he must know what he's talking about.

(But despite knowing it was better if he took a few moments to collect himself, to bandage the wounds that have opened. He couldn't help but to feel as though he was cowardly Skull again, running away from his problems.

He never felt such hatred for himself until that moment.)

* * *

Ethan grumbled under his breath.

"Let's get going Ethan, Peter and Reg are waiting for you," uncle Greg said, ushering him to the entryway to put his shoes on. Ethan scowled, moodily putting his shoes on.

His uncle's brows furrowed slightly, "I thought you liked hanging out with them?" Ethan said nothing, fastening up his shoes and then standing up.

"I like hanging out with Peter," Ethan decided to say, considering the coats in front of him, should he take one? His uncle wordlessly picked one out and passed it to him.

"What's wrong with Reg?" His uncle asked and Ethan scrunched up his nose reflexively. How could he explain to his uncle that Ethan knew that Reg was actually Reborn, a hitman in the the mafia, here to persuade Ethan to leave his new life to join up with the mafia gain, to forget everything he ever had as Ethan and to go back to being Skull, weak and stupid Skull that they didn't even like and liked to kick and push and-

"I just don't like him," he said mulishly at last. He hesitated slightly before adding "he just, makes me feel uncomfortable and reminds me of, um, of before." Instantly, his uncle's eyes sharpened whilst Ethan fiddled with his zip. He could feel his uncle staring at him, weighing his words before he hummed.

"We could always stay in, tell them you're not feeling well?" His uncle proposed and a rush of warmth went through Ethan. He considered it for a second and then shook his head. Reborn would never let him be, better face him now. That's not to say he couldn't have a little fun.

"No, I'll go!" Ethan said gleefully, plotting. The progression of his expressions must have been at least strange, but his uncle didn't seem mind, blinking slightly and then taking it in a stride. If nothing else, he looked slightly amused.

"Try not to cause too much trouble," his uncle said.

"Cause as much trouble as you wish!" Auntie Rosie added from the living room, mind focused mostly on the half constructed computer spread out across the room.

"Rosie!"

* * *

"A lot of your new friends have names beginning with 'R'," Auntie Rosie remarked from where she was splayed out on the couch. Uncle nudged her legs and she reluctantly moved them to allow them to sit down.

"Reg, Ricky, Roben-"

"It was Rogan-" Uncle Greg butted in, sitting down on the couch. Auntie made a face at him.

"-Yeah that one, Rory, Rebecca, Riley?, R-"

"I don't set out to make friends with them," Ethan interrupted her. "And also, they aren't my friends. They're just there," of course, Ethan knew they were all one person, but he wasn't going to say anything. Nope, no matter how hard his heart squeezed when he didn't tell them, the guilt was worth protecting them. It really was. They didn't need to get involved with the mafia, they did so much for him already. But why would he feel so guilty about it?

They both blinked at him.

"I get it kid," his auntie nodded. "Sometimes you just hang out with people that you don't know well. But they could become your friends, if you wanted, and if you don't, don't worry about it, you can be friends with whoever you want," she added the last part, with a thoughtful look and Ethan sent her a relieved look. He really didn't wanna be friends with Reborn - at least not now.

* * *

"Privet, I am Roman," Reborn - of course it was Reborn, who else could it possibly be? - introduced himself with a slight Russian accent. "I am new to a area. It is good to meet another child!"

"Hello Roman, I'm Ethan," Ethan introduced himself without prompting from his uncle or auntie. Was he becoming used to Reborn barging into his life? Not good, Ethan didn't like it. He squeezed his aunt's hand subtly twice. She squeezed it back once.

"Lovely to meet you Roman," auntie said with a small, fake smile. "But we have to get going. We bought tickets to the cinema, you see, and we don't want to be late," she explained and started tugging Ethan gently. He went along happily.

"Goodbye Roman," his uncle added, not giving Reborn room to talk and Ethan was glad for that. He had no doubts that Reborn could worm his way into this outing if given a chance.

"You know Ethan, I'm starting to feel suspicious of all the R children," his auntie said and Ethan refrained from saying 'welcome to the club'. "They all have R names and introduce themselves to _you._ You never introduced yourself to them, or to us," she frowned slightly. "Maybe we should avoid them all."

"If it were only that easy," Ethan said wearily and his aunt sent him a startled glance. Yeah, okay, maybe that was too world weary for a kid.

"Little kids are persistent," his uncle agreed quietly, tousling Ethan's hair. Ethan instantly felt better.

* * *

"Sometimes I look at my hands and think they should be bigger," Ethan whispers from his blanket, words echoing those from months ago. Dr Naveed says nothing, he knows more is coming.

"Sometimes I look at myself- sometimes I see myself like I think others might see me," his voice trails off.

"And I for a moment, I just hate myself. I hate myself so much, that it is a burning in my chest," Ethan curls his hand over his chest, right where his heart rests.

"And I don't want to, I know I shouldn't, but it is so hard," he starts rubbing his fingers on the blanket.

"Do you," Dr Naveed butts in gently and Ethan lets him, head tilted to hear him better. "sometimes wish you didn't exist?" He asks it very gently and Ethan considers the questions. He thinks, to lie or say the truth?

The truth wins out. He wants to get better, he wants help.

"Sometimes I wish Ethan was the only one to exist and not what came before," sometimes I wish Skull didn't exist.

* * *

His aunt leads the charge.

"It's hard to love yourself and your body," she admits to him. "And you always hear people saying 'oh you have to love yourself' and 'it's not that hard', but it's really so difficult."

"Yeah," Ethan agrees quietly.

"Any ideas why?"

"...because they don't tell you how?"

"Exactly! They say, love yourself, and that's it. It's not that helpful. And I'm going to tell you this now kid. It took me a while to figure this out, the first step to loving yourself is to be neutral."

"Neutral?" Ethan asks, toying the word around.

"It's between love and hate. You don't say you hate yourself, but you don't say you love yourself either. Instead of just thinking... why don't you give me a body part?"

Ethan's mind went blank and then he glanced at his too big, too small hands.

"Hands?"

"Okay, so instead of 'I hate how my hands look', you go to yourself 'yeah, my hands look different, but they grasp things for me, they button up my coat and hold my fork so I can eat'. You're not trying to make yourself love yourself..." she paused and made a slight face at her word choice before ploughing right through. "You're just taking those bad thoughts you sometimes have and making them into something that is there and helpful.

"Oh," Ethan said softly, staring at his small/big hands. He never thought about doing that. "But what about other thoughts?"

"Other thoughts? Something like...?"

"I am, cowardly," Ethan offered and his aunt took a moment to think.

"Right, instead of 'I am cowardly' you say to yourself 'I am not cowardly, I am facing many problems which I don't know how to deal with'."

"Like ra- rasi-rat- like when Dr Naveed says you have to prove your bad thoughts wrong?"

"Exactly like that!" She reached over the table and gently ruffled his hair. Ethan leaned into the touch.

"Did it work for you?" He asked curiously.

"Hmm," his auntie hummed, settling down from her impassioned speech. She sipped at her tea, considering the question carefully. "Not at the beginning. It took a while to get into it," she admitted. "It works for some people and doesn't for others. But there is no shame in trying it out. And if it doesn't work, we can always think of something else."

"I," Ethan hesitated. "Would I-? Would I need to tell you the thoughts?" He asked quietly. Auntie Rosie regarded his silently.

"Not if you don't want to. You could write them down," she suggested. "We could get you a new notebook for them if you wanted to. Or you could tell the thoughts to someone else. Or you could even just practice in your head or when you're alone. We are here to help you, Ethan and forcing you to reveal stuff you don't want to would just make it worse for you."

Ethan blinked rapidly to disperse the tears that gathered. He jumped off his seat and went towards auntie Rosie. He gave her a tight hug. "Thank you," he said quietly.

She hugged him back, stroking his head softly. "Any day, kid. Any day."

* * *

This was getting ridiculous.

Ethan (or Skull as his memories kept on whispering, he used to be Skull, a daredevil in leather and piercings who was a cloud and had flames-) scowled at the plant in the lobby of the bank.

Only, it wasn't a plant.

It was Reborn.

Dressed up as a plant.

And no one noticed? How? He was so obvious? Ethan could see his body was mostly covered by greenery, and he had petals framing his face like a sunflower, but that didn't change the fact that he looked like a kid dressing up for a school play.

Ethan's scowl intensified before smoothing out. Two could play at this game.

He tugged at his auntie's sleeve who bent down a little.

"Yes, Ethan?" She asked in a whisper.

"Can I get some water from the cooler? And sit down? My feet hurt," he whined quietly, pouting up at her. She fondly ruffled his hair through his hat.

"Go ahead, but don't wander off too far. Do you want your colouring books?" Ethan considers it for a second before shaking his head. He then sets off towards the water cooler with a determined stride. That looks a bit silly on a little kid, and he can just imagine his auntie smiling with a twinkle in her eye at him.

He grabs the water, making sure to use the cold water tap rather than the normal one. This was going to be great! He then set off towards the sitting area. There were four seats there. Two small coffee tables full of leaflets about the accounts available and some plants.

And in those plants was Reborn. Ethan hid his grin by taking a sip of his water. He then took a quick glance around. Auntie was still in the queue, her eyes glancing his way every once in a while to check he was okay. He waved at her happily, settling deeper into his chair and she waved back with a grin.

He gave it a few seconds, making sure no one was paying attention to him. He then turned his attention towards the plants. Surprisingly, this bank had actual plants, not fake ones, so this would be even easier than he thought. He picked up his cup and wandered towards the Reborn Plant and pretended to study it.

"You look thirst, Mr Plant," he declared quietly, just loud enough for anyone nearby to hear that. "I know! Have some of my water!" And with that he poured the rest of the cold water in his cup over Reborn's head. Reborn froze on the spot. Ethan could see some other bank patrons sending him smiles, probably thinking how adorable that a kid was watering plant, still not noticing Reborn, dripping with water.

Ehtan frowned at the plant.

"You still look pah-paa-parrr-thirsty! Maybe you need some more," Ethan scrunched up his nose and then set off towards the water cooler for some more water. He filled up his cup and when he turned around the Reborn Plant was gone. He pouted.

Way to ruin his fun.

"Ethan," his auntie called, shoving her purse into her bag as she approached.

"All done?" Ethan tilted his head. Auntie stifled her smile.

"All done, what did you do? Did you read the leaflets?"

"Nooo, one of the plants looked thirsty!"

"Did it now?" His auntie was good at sniffing out trouble and watched him carefully.

"Yeah! So, I gave it water!"

"That was very kind of you. Maybe you would like a plant of your own?" Ethan took a second to admire how she took everything in a stride, even when she knew there was more to it than he said, she knew when to push and when to let it go. He loved her so much.

"What kinda plant?"

* * *

The next time he goes to a park, he is not met by Reborn in one of his disguises. In fact, he doesn't see Reborn or any of his personas, maybe the watering prank did the trick? Ethan had to admit that it was a bit weird to go somewhere and not see Reborn, he slowly started to get used to him. But it was better this way.

And then, a few days later he went to the park again.

He wasn't greeted by Reborn.

"Hello," the boy smiled at him and Ethan automatically returned it.

It was someone else.

"What's your name?"

"Ethan," he told the Arcobaleno (or would it be ex-Arcobaleno now?), as though the other didn't know it already. "What's yours?" And he asked as if he didn't know the boy's.

"My name is

F  
o  
n."

(He should have known that they would not leave him alone.)

* * *

 **A/N:** **Firstly, not everyone deals with mental health the same way! The way that mental health/therapy is portrayed here is not meant to be a universal thing. This is one of the ways it can be managed and it differs depending on many factors such as age, medical history etc.! Some of the stuff in here is also changed to fit fictional format and does not reflect real life.**

 **Some notes: so yes Ethan knows he was Skull, but he sees it as a separate part of himself, like a past life. And he doesn't like what he sees ): When Ethan looks back at his life as Skull, he only sees the negatives, the pain and fear and guilt. And what a child would do in this situation? They would repress and deny until it explodes. That scene where he breaks down and says "I don't want to be a weakling", that's him starting to come to terms with the fact that he was Skull. And in his eyes Skull was weak, cowardly and such, because he doesn't remember good times as Skull. There's also this element of fear for Ethan, because the ex-Arcobaleno are here to get Skull back. And if Skull comes back, what will happen to Ethan and his thoughts and dreams and relationships? Will Ethan simply cease to exist? It's a very difficult thing to deal with.**

 **Sometimes I feel like I'm preaching (especially in stories like this where therapy and mental health are a big thing) and I'm really sorry if it comes across that way. Also, proofreading for this story? Never heard of that, I just write it, quickly read over it the next day (adding some stuff) and done! Find me on tumblr as dessmina!**

 **Will Ethan ever accept his past as Skull? Will Fon be better at persuading Skull to give them a chance? Find out whenever I get another inspiration for this story!**


End file.
